Chapter 3 - The Investigation BeginsBy 1:30 AM, Callum Vale was no longer in the hospital. He was sitting in the back of a black bullet-resistant Mercedes SUV idling in an alleyway behind the South Boston waterfront.
In the front seat sat Marcus Vance, Callum’s head of security and primary fixer—a man built like a brick wall with a military-grade haircut and a scar running from his ear down into his collar.
Marcus turned around in his seat, holding a ruggedized laptop displaying traffic camera feeds and police dispatch logs.
“You were right, boss,” Marcus said, tapping the screen. “The mugging wasn't random. Traffic cams from the warehouse district show two known associates of Victor Sterling trailing Maeve from the Charles Street station right up until the alleyway hit.”
Victor Sterling.
The name hung in the damp air like sulfur. Sterling was a mid-level shipping competitor who had spent the last two years trying to muscle in on Callum’s maritime logistics contracts along the harbor. For months, Sterling had been trying to find a vulnerability in Callum’s supply chain—bribing dockworkers, leaking false inspection reports, and sniffing around for inside information.
When legitimate business tactics failed, Sterling had apparently decided to resort to home invasion and coercion, targeting the most vulnerable person connected to Callum’s daily life.
“Where is Sterling tonight?” Callum asked, his voice chillingly calm.
“Private lounge in the North End,” Marcus replied, pulling up a secondary file. “Celebrating a quiet Christmas Eve with his top lieutenants. They think they’ve secured the layout of your Beacon Hill estate through Maeve’s ledger. They’re planning a holiday surprise for you tonight.”
Callum looked out the window at the dark, freezing waters of the harbor. The snow was beginning to fall again, thick white flakes swirling through the streetlights, blanketing the city in a deceptive blanket of holiday peace.
“Call our legal counsel,” Callum instructed quietly. “Have them pull every asset, lien, and maritime permit held by Sterling Logistics. I want their operating licenses suspended by sunrise under federal anti-smuggling statutes.”
Marcus grinned faintly, a shark-like expression in the dim cabin light. “And the physical greeting for Mr. Sterling?”
“Don't touch him yet,” Callum replied, adjusting his cuffs. “Let him think his plan worked. Let him send his men to break into my estate tonight. Let them walk right through the front gates, past the courtyard, and into the trap.”
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Marcus blinked, understanding dawning in his eyes. “You didn't lock the estate down before you left the house, did you?”
“I left the west service gate wide open,” Callum said coldly. “And I left the inventory ledger right where Maeve normally keeps it—on the mahogany desk in the ground-floor study. Let’s see how eager Victor Sterling is to steal from a house that doesn't belong to him.”
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